


Songs to a Sorrowing Heart

by Thysanotus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, The Quidditch Pitch: From Diagon Alley to Hogwarts, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-29
Updated: 2005-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thysanotus/pseuds/Thysanotus
Summary: Harry died...Draco Reflects





	Songs to a Sorrowing Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

A/N: I think this came from crazy fever thoughts I was having in the shower tonight. I was thinking about the reliability of narrators, and this is what resulted. I would love to hear who you think the narrator is. Checked over by the wonderful xylodemon.  
a. I never understood why Harry Potter was considered a martyr. He didn’t die for the religion I was brought up to believe in. He died on a sunny Thursday afternoon with a smile on his face. He wasn’t roasted to death on a gridiron, like St. Lawrence the martyr, or executed by the sword, like St. Lucy, who refused to marry a pagan nobleman and died a virgin.

b. Like most of the early Christian martyrs, Harry Potter died a virgin.

c. Martyr: A witness to the truth of the faith, in which the martyr endures even death to be faithful to Christ. Those who die for the faith before having received Baptism are said to have received a "baptism of blood," by which their sins are forgiven and they share in the death and Resurrection of Christ.

d. When Albus Dumbledore stood at the evening meal to proclaim Harry’s death, and his eyes turned down at the corners, I stood quietly. My fingers clenched, cutting crescent moons into my palms when he told us Harry had died a martyr’s death. Someone tugged my arm, concerned for the trickles of blood they could see staining my robes, but I jerked away.

e. I followed him around the school on that final day. He seemed relaxed, but appearances can be deceptive. Although he’d defeated Voldemort at the beginning of the year, stalking out of his family’s home to confront the Dark Lord – or so I’d heard – the Death Eaters were still looking for him.

f. My Hogwarts letter was a surprise. The owl tapping at our kitchen window scared my mother, and she had to go and lie down while my father opened the envelope, addressed to me with green ink. I kept eating my cornflakes, engrossed in Little Women.

g. I soon learnt to suppress all traces of my background, including my faith. No-one blamed me, of course, and no real wizards had ever been hurt by the witch trials, but the invisible burden of guilt and shame I carried around with me coloured my every thought.

h. In my house-colours I was invisible, another background character who served to heighten dramatic tension. People forget that sometimes the most minor characters are the most important. Like the Hummel children in Little Women. Beth would never have died if the actions of the minor characters had been different.

i. The cold stone of the castle talked to me at night, whispering secrets and history – because in the end, history becomes secrets - sharing wriggling thoughts, ideas too filthy to be imagined by the light of day. For one night – and then for two, four, twelve – I forgot myself, sliding a hand between my legs, the sibilant whisper of the walls rising in pitch as my hips jerked and I bit down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

j. Harry followed well-trodden paths, head down, when he walked the castle at night. He never saw me, the castle helping to hide me, showing me shortcuts. He always ended up in the dungeons, firelight flickering over his skin as he lifted his robes, letting Draco Malfoy’s chapped pink lips slide over his cock.

k. Once, I saw him with Ron. They were coming back from some illicit excursion, and Ron stopped at the edge of a pool of light, shadows wavering behind them on the wall. He took Harry’s elbow, shoving him against the wall, and I watched as his lips moved down Harry’s jaw. I thought I could almost feel the harsh sucking on my own neck, teeth and tongue savage and demanding.

l. If something needs to be saved, it’s better to do it yourself.

m. I can still remember how his eyes widened with surprise when I let my foot drag against the stone. He half-turned, almost grinning, expecting Ron. I could see myself reflected in his glasses as I lifted my wand, and the astonishment that crossed his face was the purest expression I had ever seen there.

n. He didn’t make much noise, and the castle cradled us in a pocket of silence until it was over. I slipped back to my dorm, sleepy and sated. No-one ever thought to suspect me, shocked and teary as I was, as we all were.


End file.
